


Glue

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to "In the Line of Duty." Sam's grieving Jolinar, and her friends are determined to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glue

First published in _I’m Just Sayin’… 2_ (2003)

 

Two faces looked up at Daniel Jackson as he walked into the commissary, his hands stuck into his pockets in dejection. He wished he had better news from them, but Jack was already grimacing at what he saw in Daniel’s expression. Well, none of them had really expected anything else. They’d just hoped.

“No change, huh?” Jack asked nevertheless as Daniel drew near. They always hoped. You didn’t give up on a teammate, let alone a friend.

Daniel shook his head as he sank onto the bench next to Jack. “No. She won’t even talk to me.” Jack’s spoon, poking half-heartedly at a dish of pudding, was suddenly jabbed into its middle.

“Captain Carter is still grieving the loss of the Tokra Jolinar,” Teal’c said, half-question, half-not-quite-comprehending statement.

“Ah, it’s a little more than that, Teal’c. She’s grieving some…body else giving their life for her.” That was the only explanation he could come up with; Daniel couldn’t believe anyone could feel bad for a Goa’uld. Especially one that had done to Sam what this one had. “Then there’s being forcibly taken over by a Goa’uld in the first place. That has to be confusing, hating something and being sad for it at that same time. And then there’s the whole issue of being tortured …”

“Always fun,” O’Neill agreed bitterly. It sounded like the voice of experience. He was back to stabbing the pudding.

Daniel sighed, rubbed at the back of his neck. “You know, if this Jolinar was such a good guy, he could’ve been a little less of a jerk in the first place. If he would have told us from the beginning what had happened—”

“Oh, yeah, we would’ve thrown him a welcome party. Come on, Daniel—soon as her eyes started glowing, Carter would have been in confinement, no questions asked.”

Daniel’s eyebrow went up. “So you’re agreeing with what it did?”

“No. I’m just sayin’ there’s nothing we could have done knowing what we knew. The second Jolinar took over Sam without asking, this whole thing was gonna end bad.”

“Well, we could have at least listened about the Ashrak. I mean, if we’d taken that more seriously, maybe he never would have had the chance to kill Jolinar.”

“And then Carter would still have that snake in her. No offense, Teal’c.”

“None taken, O’Neill.”

“I know that, Jack. I just think—”

Jack leaned closer, his expression losing the anger it’d held those long last two days. “What if. You’re thinking what if, Daniel, and that doesn’t help. Yeah, there’s a lot of things we could have done differently, but the point is, we didn’t. Jolinar got Sam, the Ashrak got Jolinar, that’s old news, history. Now we go on.”

“I don’t think Sam can,” Daniel said quietly.

Jack wasn’t happy agreeing wasn’t that, but it was true. “Yeah.” He barely seemed to notice as Daniel absently borrowed the spoon and took a bite of his pudding.

Teal’c had watched the exchange in silence, absorbing the arguments. The two men were worried about their friend, as was Teal’c, and it seemed to help to attempt to figure out how the situation had occurred or whose fault it had been. But they were missing the point.

“Is not the issue at hand that Captain Carter needs help?” he asked them both.

They blinked at him. “Yes, Teal’c, that’s exactly the issue,” Daniel finally answered. “Question is, how do we help her?”

Teal’c pondered that a moment. “Among the Jaffa, when a warrior is injured in battle, if he is not worthy enough for restoration by the sarcophagus, he is removed from the ranks of Apophis and sent to his home to recover. It is expected his family will heal both his body and his mind so that he may return to service whole.” Or sometimes he was just left to die, but that didn’t seem relevant here.

“Family’s great—for those who have them.” Jack couldn’t seem to muster sarcasm for the remark. He finally noticed the missing spoon and grabbed it back with an attempt at annoyance to which Daniel was oblivious.

The archaeologist straightened, looking hopeful. “Sam’s mentioned her dad, and a brother.”

“What’s she gonna tell ‘em, she was taken over by an alien parasite, hunted by an alien bounty hunter, then got tortured and the parasite died to save her?” The sarcasm was back full-force.

“Or…something,” Daniel said weakly. He shook his head with a sigh. “Actually, I don’t think she’s all that close to them. It probably wouldn’t help.”

There was a brief silence, all three of them contemplating that.

“In a way,” Daniel finally offered, almost hesitant, “I guess we’re her family.” It was true for all of them. Jack had lost his, Daniel hadn’t had any for a long time, and Teal’c was separated from his by space and ideology.

Jack shifted in his seat, taking another bite of pudding Teal’c doubted he tasted. “Yeah, okay, I’ll buy that. So what do we do? She won’t even talk to us.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have to.”

“Perhaps this is the time for Captain Carter to listen,” Teal’c added.

“Teal’c’s right—if she doesn’t want to or isn’t ready to talk, maybe she could just listen while we talk.”

“And what do we say, Daniel?” Jack asked very patiently.

“How about what you said to me after we got back from Nem’s planet and I was having some trouble?” Daniel’s voice was quiet, his gaze steady. Teal’c’s attention went to O’Neill. “That she’s important to us and we’re glad she’s here, and we’re here for her, too.”

Jack actually reddened. “You took notes?” he asked gruffly.

Daniel’s mouth curved into a small smile. “I didn’t have to. It stuck.”

“Does not Captain Carter know she is not alone?”

Jack looked up at Teal’c. “Yeah, Teal’c, she does, but knowing it in your head and knowing it in your heart are two different things. Sometimes it’s easy to forget what you know when you’ve been hurt.”

Teal’c and Daniel stared at him.

“What? I can be sensitive, too. Sometimes.” Jack shrugged, sounding defensive, nearly making Daniel smile. There was hope for the old colonel yet. For all of them, actually. Especially Sam—he had to believe that. She’d been one of those who’d taught him that same lesson, to feel in his heart what he knew in his head: that things would get better, that he wasn’t alone, that there were those who cared about him. Actually, the last he hadn’t even known at all. It had taken a while to realize the earnest efforts of his teammates after he became one of the Touched, after he’d had to choose to destroy Thor’s hammer, after Nem, were actually demonstrations of friendship, not just worry about a colleague. That what he’d started to feel for them was mutual.

Which was why it hurt so much to see Sam like that, curled up in bed, her face blank but her eyes despairing.

“So, she talks and we listen. Sounds like a plan.” Jack gulped the last two bites of pudding and stood. “Who goes first?”

Teal’c could hear the irritation in Daniel Jackson’s voice as he answered, also rising. “This isn’t a military maneuver, Jack. We’re not on a mission here.”

It was the way a soldier thought, the Jaffa silently reproved the younger man. He understood O’Neill. Teal’c expected a response from him in kind, unsurprised as O’Neill bristled. “I didn’t say it was. But while we’re on the subject, why is everything always the military versus the right way to you?”

“I didn’t say it was,” Daniel said quietly, as though he were nursing wounds. In their worry over Captain Carter’s condition, the two men seemed to be injuring each other as well, Teal’c frowned. He tried to think of something to say, unsure what.

But O’Neill unexpectedly softened, his hand going to Daniel’s arm. “Look…I want her back, too.”

The fire disappeared from Daniel Jackson and he slumped, without answer. The three of them were silent once more, staring at the empty pudding dish.

Jack spoke up. “I’ll go first. I’ve got an idea.”

Interest returned to Daniel. “What?”

“None of your business.” But it was said with a smile.

“Ah. Okay.” Daniel almost felt like normal again, lightness momentarily restored to his heart. He knew Jack O’Neill well enough to know the man was human and hardly all-powerful, and yet when Jack seemed to think something would happen, Daniel always found himself believing.

Teal’c had never doubted, but it was…reassuring to have his faith undergirded. This was the team that had held its own against Apophis more than once, and there was little he believed they could not do with enough determination. Captain Carter had that in abundance, but every great warrior had moments of grief or doubt. It was not a weakness to be reminded of the strength you possess by your…family.

Jack saw the belief of his men, and, ironically, it bolstered his own flagging faith. They would do this. He’d always known he had one heck of a team, best in the SGC—best anywhere, for that matter—and they wouldn’t lose one of their own without a fight.

Jack O’Neill straightened, nodding to both of them, and strode out the door with purpose. Daniel followed after a moment’s hesitation but no less determination, and Teal’c paused only long enough to return the empty dessert container to the dirty dishes line before going after them.

Samantha Carter’s demons didn’t have a chance.

 

“Hey, Carter. How’s it going?” Jack sauntered into the cubicle with a smile, hands tucked into his pockets, the picture of a casual visitor. Only his eyes, ever sharp, would have given away his concern if Sam had bothered to look. She didn’t, her gaze on some indefinable point on the white wall beside her bed.

Jack’s smile faded a notch. It had only been two days since Jolinar’s death, after all—no one expected Carter to have rallied and be back to normal yet, and they’d given her time alone to grieve. But her withdrawal and depression hadn’t improved at all, and Frasier was worried about her lack of progress. Jack had already talked to Janet about it several times those last two days. Cassie had been the only one able to elicit any response at all, but Sam had pulled right back into her shell after the little girl’s departure. It was, in short, not the captain’s typical talk-it-out-and-move-on style. And as much as Jack wasn’t usually comfortable with the talk-it-out part, he hated the alternative. He would’ve paid good money to hear a lecture on the physics of wormholes that moment, delivered in Carter’s own brand of enthusiasm.

He shook his head, circling the bed. Okay, so she needed some help to get there. Being part of a team was all about helping the others when they needed it, right? He hitched himself on the edge of the bed, close enough to the patient that she couldn’t help but be aware of his presence. But she didn’t look at him, didn’t even blink.

“Interesting wall, huh?” He took a glance at it, himself, remembering a few times when he’d made a study of similar pieces of plaster. “Trust me, you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all.”

She blinked, swallowing, and lay still. Darn near fetal position, Jack noted, like someone who was hurting. Janet said she shouldn’t be feeling much physical pain anymore, mostly just weakness and fatigue, but that wasn’t the kind of hurt Jack figured was carving away at Sam.

There was a cart nearby, and Jack picked up a plastic cup off it, idly passing it from hand to hand. “You know, it’s not nice to ignore your visitors. I think Daniel’s starting to get a complex, feeling like he’s talking to himself. ‘Course, he usually is…”

She would have smiled at that remark at another time; now she didn’t stir. Jack winced.

“Carter, look at me.” Nothing. “That’s an order, Captain.”

Finally, grudgingly, and probably because he’d touched one of her most instinctive buttons, she did turn her head toward him, and Jack resisted another flinch as their eyes met. He’d thought they’d be miserable, but instead they were as flat as her expression. Like that…thing had taken her emotions with it. Maybe Jolinar was supposed to be one of the good guys, but she never would be in his book.

His voice softened. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Just wanted to see if you were listening. I have this thing about being tuned out—comes from my childhood or something. But now that I’ve got your attention—” Jack stood, dropping the cup back onto the tray. “I’ve got something to show you.”

He hated seeing her eyes so dead. None of the curiosity he was used to, not even disinterest. Just…nothing. And even worse, he knew the deep despair it masked. Ruthlessly ignoring that, Jack went on with the plan, reaching around the bed to draw the wheelchair into Sam’s line of sight. Her eyes did follow his motions—that was something—but didn’t show any reaction to the chair. Well, fine. At least she wouldn’t be fighting him.

“Ready for a little ride? Janet gave me a go—thought you’d wanna get out of here for a while.” He reached out the curtain with one hand, waving once, and sure enough an orderly soon appeared. Within a minute, they had the monitoring leads off, the IV withdrawn, and one patient bundled up and ready to go. Sam didn’t protest any of it until they actually moved to lift her into the chair, when she stiffened with a frustrated sound.

Jack stopped, met her eyes. There was a flicker of something there, something that wanted to be left alone to suffer. Well, tough. He didn’t leave his teammates behind for anything. “Trust me. I’ll have you back in one piece in no time.”

Carter would have had to actively fight him to keep from going, which would have been progress of a sort, too, but she didn’t seem to care enough to do so. Swell. It would make carrying out his plan that much easier.

One captain bundled up in blankets and the wheelchair, Jack nodded his thanks to the orderly and took over, rolling them out of the infirmary. Janet was just passing through and he gave her a wink, grinning when she winked back. For a doctor, she wasn’t that bad. He liked one who was willing to conspire with him.

Out the doors and down the long halls of the base they went, several people greeting them on the way. Well, greeting Sam; if SG-1 was her family, the base was extended relations. There were always some you avoided and didn’t get along with, but generally they cared about each other and knew all about what was going on with each other. Which made going through an ordeal both easier and harder. Jack saw Carter curl a little more against each well-wisher’s hello, and hurried to get them to the elevator and out of the SGC.

Looking down at her from above, he could see her forehead faintly wrinkle as she registered they were going topside. Good, let her wonder. Anything he could do to make her brain start working again was only a good thing.  

Once in the privacy of the elevator, he continued the one-sided conversation. “Now, me, I never got why anyone thought patients would get better in the Infirmary. Twenty-four hour traffic, all the privacy of a zoo, no view, gerbil food—seems like a lousy thing to do to someone who isn’t feeling well. I never start feeling better until I get outside again and fill my lungs with some un-recirculated air.”

Sam stirred. “Sir…”

Jack waited patiently, raising his eyebrows in encouragement.

She sighed, annoyance obviously rising with his obvious density. “I feel fine.”

He pretended he didn’t hear the utter weariness that dragged behind the words. “Glad to hear it, Carter,” he said energetically, rubbing his hands together. “Guess you’re up to going, then.”

Carter flushed, her mouth pursing in irritation at his relentlessness, but she didn’t say a word.

There were less obvious ways out than the main gate, and Jack took one that brought them out a discrete side entrance to an employee lot. There, he took a sharp left, skirting the blacktop and cars and potential audience of people leaving for the night, heading instead for the clearing he knew was close by.

And there it was, white summer flowers nearly fluorescent in the darkness. Jack took an automatic deep breath of the fresh air, wondering again how it could be so different from that of any planet they’ve visited so far, even when the flora looked identical to Earth’s.

The wheelchair rattled and jerked as he led it over the grass and uneven ground, and Jack navigated carefully to avoid excessive jarring. Well, Carter wasn’t complaining. It was a poor joke and left him not at all amused.

Finally, he reached his destination. Parking the chair in the grass away from the trees and parking lot lights, he locked its wheels and flopped into the grass beside it.

“Cold?” he asked lightly, not looking at Carter. It had to be in the 70’s even in the night air, but it was a start.

“No.” The answer was about as terse as it could be, and its do-not-disturb message was even clearer.

Jack’s voice softened. “I come here sometimes after a bad mission. Heck, I come here after _any_ mission. It’s a good place to think, clear your head.”

Stubborn silence didn’t sound so empty now with the outdoor noises to fill it.

“May not seem like much,” he continued. “Until you look up.” And with that he stretched his arms back and tilted his face up toward the sky.

It didn’t disappoint him, thousands of stars glittering in the black, clear firmament. They always seemed to fill him up, like light shining into darkness, that silent, beautiful blanket. It offered him a peace nothing else had been able to since Charlie’s death. And now it was time to share.

A subtle sideways glance revealed Sam reluctantly following his lead, tilting her head back a bare minimum to glance at what he saw. And then he saw her chin lift farther as the sky cast its same spell over her.

Jack smiled softly to himself as his eyes went back to the points of light, already automatically picking out familiar constellations.

No wonder Heaven was always described as above them.

Of course, it was those same heavens that had caused them so much grief already, planets with enemies and dangers that had nearly destroyed the world and, almost as importantly, his team several times. He should have hated it, but…he couldn’t.

He knew how Sam felt, more than she could have imagined.

“That’s his homeworld,” Carter unexpectedly spoke up.

_His_ —who? Jack glanced questioningly at her, but she looked more surprised than he did. Stunned, actually. Jack took a stab at it. “Jolinar’s homeworld? Carter, do you remember—”

“No, sir.” She’d said a little too fast, too desperately.

Okay, off-limits topic. But it raised an interesting point: if Carter had gotten a peek, even a brief one, into Jolinar’s memories, well, Hammond would be interested, to say the least. But that could wait for now. Jack dutifully examined the area of sky Sam had been looking at and any one of a hundred stars she could have meant. “I thought all Goa'uld come from the same place, Planet Goa’uld or something?” he said carefully.

The corners of her mouth actually turned up at that, if just barely. “Maybe it’s not where they come from but where they make their home.”

Aw, geez. A home? Maybe with a wife and kids? Suddenly this whole loss thing of Carter’s seemed a lot more complicated. Jack frowned at the stars. Maybe his idea hadn’t been so great, after all.

Still, she’d had actually said a few sentences, and that was a few more than what she’d said up to then. Jack cautiously leaned back again and, after a long minute, took another chance.

“It’s gotta be hard…” His tongue tripped, not used to talking like this, and he stilled a brief squirm. “I mean, knowing someone like that and then losing them?”

Sam’s voice hardened, her gaze lowering to meet his. “He didn’t give me any choice.”

“Right. That part, too. Don’t know if you should feel mad or sad.”

“I was mad at first.” The distance of her tone, her eyes fixed on the stars again, made Jack wonder if she even knew she was thinking out loud. “You feel so…violated. It’s almost like—” She shuddered, not finishing the thought. Jack couldn’t help but be glad she didn’t. “But he was just trying to survive—he didn’t mean to hurt me. And he died to save me. It’s not _fair_.” Her hand curled into a fist in her lap.

Anger, grief: Jack knew how intertwined they could be. He stared at the stars for a long minute, giving her a little time, then spoke up. “Well, I’ve got this whole speech on ‘fair’ and how it was never part of the deal, but I’m guessing that’s about the last thing you want to hear right now.”

No answer. Were they back to the silence stage? Jack swallowed a sigh; this was _so_ not his thing, and some reminders of his own past he didn’t really want to go back to, either. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to talk about this, but neither was she moving on, and since she wasn’t a fan of fishing, he didn’t really know any other cures for her.

“Captain,” he finally said softly, “don’t forget to look up.” Her eyes rose again almost instinctively, starlight reflecting off some wetness on her cheeks. There was something that drew her there, too, just like it did him. Maybe they weren’t even that different.

Yeah, right.

He smiled, lying back once more to pin his own gaze on the lights above. “Lotta planets out there. I bet you could even tell me how many may have life on them. Not,” he quickly raised a warning finger, “that I want to know. But there’s a lot. And every one of those people are important. People like Kennedy and Maybourne sometimes forget that, but we can’t. I bet Joli-what’s-her-name believed that, too. That’s why she was willing to die to save you.”

Okay, so the last line sounded a little _Steel Magnolias_ , a movie he’d sat through for Sara’s sake although even she’d hated it. But Carter wouldn’t tell anyone. And, well, a team leader had to make sacrifices for his people. Besides…he happened to believe it.

There was a long silence, Carter staring up at the stars, maybe crying a little. Jack didn’t look. Some things could only be worked out by yourself.

The breeze eventually grew into a mild wind, and when Jack finally shivered at a particularly brisk blow, he finally glanced up and saw Carter’s arms wrapped around herself. She didn’t seem to particularly mind the chill, but Frasier would have his head if he brought back her patient with a cold, and, well, he’d done about all he could for now.

“Time to go back,” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her, and he climbed to his feet and

took over the wheelchair again. The return trip seemed a little bumpier, but then it seemed like that on most missions, too. You were tired by the end, and thinking only about going home.

Maybe that would help, too, getting Carter back to her home and her own space. He’d have to talk to Janet about that. Daniel and Teal’c wouldn’t let her withdraw too far into it.

Yeah, maybe this would work. Okay, so Sam stared at the floor the whole way back to the infirmary and didn’t say another word to him, even when Jack helped get her settled back in her bed and said a reluctant good-bye.

But maybe he didn’t imagine the whispered “Thank you, sir,” just as he was about to leave, either.

Maybe this would work. But Daniel and Teal’c still had a long way to go and Jack didn’t envy them. For the sake of his team, he hoped they had better luck than he did.

 

“Captain Carter.”

Teal’c stood uncertainly in the doorway, where he had been standing for some minutes watching his teammate do what he assumed was packing. At least that’s what Doctor Frasier had said, that she’d gone to her temporary quarters to pack up to go home for a few days. SG-1 was standing down until the end of that week and the return of their fourth member, but that was assuming Captain Carter was ready to go. The pale, thin woman before him did not seem ready at all.

She jerked at his voice, another out-of-character behavior. She was a good warrior, usually aware of her surroundings. To be so surprised when Teal’c had made no attempt to hide his presence was not a good sign.

“Teal’c. What’re you doing here?”

A response. He smiled, pleased. “I have come to see if I can be of some assistance. Doctor Frasier said you may have need of someone to help you carry your belongings.”

She didn’t smile back, merely blinked as if confused by the simple offer. No, this was not the teammate Teal’c knew at all. He felt unexpectedly grieved at the finding. “Uh, thanks,” she finally stammered. “I was going to ask one of the airmen to do it, but…thanks.”

He inclined his head, stepping through the door. Captain Carter’s room was usually decorated with photos of her niece and nephew, and recently of Cassandra and some of the girl’s artwork. Now, it seemed to have been stripped bare of any such decoration, and Teal’c’s eyebrow rose at the sight. Surely one did not need to pack so thoroughly for a departure of a few days. Unless one was not sure when they would be back.

There was a duffel bag on the floor, half-full, and a smaller case on the bed that was fastened and bulging. Captain Carter was engaged in sorting clothing into two piles, one that went into the bag and another that was returned into an open drawer beside the bed. Teal’c couldn’t help but notice more clothes were going into the bag than into the drawer. Perhaps now was the time to share what he’d brought, while there was still room for them.

“I also wished to give you two presents. On Chulak, it is customary to give offerings to the bereaved, symbolic replacements for their loss.”

Captain Carter stopped packing, slowly straightening to meet his gaze. Her eyes, dark-circled and bereft, seemed unusually penetrating. “The bereaved?” she repeated shakily.

Teal’c was uncertain what to make of her tone or her reaction. Daniel Jackson had been the one to suggest a gift, and Teal’c had assumed it was for bereavement. Perhaps it should have been to celebrate her departure, or for her recovery from illness? Or for her near-death—there was much he still did not know of Tauri traditions and it seemed he’d misjudged again.

Captain Carter sank onto her bed, displacing a pile of clothing, which fell to the floor unheeded. She surprised him by suddenly smiling, if briefly, then rubbing her hand once over her eyes. “Bereaved—no one’s said that before, Teal’c. I think the colonel thinks I’m mad and Janet knows I’m just…confused about everything, but no one’s..they all act like I should be glad Jolinar’s gone.”

“Are you not?” Teal’c probed gently.

“Yes. I am. And no. In a way, I do miss her. I know that doesn’t make any sense, after what she did—”

“It does. It is said the blending of a Tokra Goa’uld and host is extremely fulfilling for both and leaves a profound emptiness in the soul with its loss.” He wasn’t sure he believed that, but was willing to perpetuate the rumor if it would help Captain Carter.

“But we weren’t really blended—Jolinar was in control most of the time.”

Teal’c pondered that. Tokra assertions aside, his experiences with blendings and the Goa’uld had always been violent, painful, and unwanted. The truth was he did not understand this situation completely, except for the fact that Captain Carter had found an enemy to be an unexpected friend, only to have that friend give its life for her. Lesser sacrifices had produced deep bonds among former foes. “Perhaps her sacrifice made her worthy of grieving for?”

Captain Carter nodded slowly. “Maybe. That’s what I keep coming up with, too. But sometimes when I remember how it felt to be taken over like that, I feel…furious. And guilty, at the same time, you know?” Captain Carter abruptly shook her head. “I’m sorry, I just…I can’t explain it.”

Teal’c tilted his head slightly to one side. “Is explanation necessary for the grief one feels?”

Captain Carter opened her mouth, then closed it again, appearing surprised. Had he managed to say something of comfort despite his own confusion? Teal’c hoped so.

He watched silently as Captain Carter ran a hand over a folded shirt by her side, then absently picked it up and refolded it. When she looked up, it was with a lifted chin, a sign of determination Teal’c knew well and was glad to see.

“So, what did you bring?”

As well a change of subject, an obvious avoidance strategy. Well, even Ra had not conquered Timoor in a day. Teal’c showed no sign of his disappointment, obediently bending down to rummage in the bag he’d brought with him. He emerged victorious with a covered plate in his hands. “Cookies.”

She blinked again. “Cookies?”

“I am told it is a tradition on your world to make these…cookies for those whom you wish to comfort. They are to be eaten with bovine excretions.”

Captain Carter almost laughed, definitely smiling a second time, now with real pleasure. It was the first such expression Teal’c had seen her show since the Tokra Jolinar had died, and he smiled in return, enjoying her enjoyment.

She took the plate from his hands and lifted a corner of the metal sheet cover, glancing inside.

“Chocolate chip! Those are my favorite! How did you know?”

“A small avian informed me,” he said very seriously.

“Really.” She was nodding, but there was amusement in her eyes. It made her seem less drawn, a dramatic difference. “And they’re homemade, too—you didn’t bake these yourself, Teal’c, did you?”

“I had the assistance of Cassandra Frasier.” It had been quite the afternoon at Doctor Frasier’s home, making the small nuggets of dough. Teal’c had learned much about Tauri cooking. Far more than he’d wanted to, in fact. And O’Neill’s attempts at humor and Daniel Jackson’s detailed explanations of the history of food preparation had driven Teal’c to near exasperation and Cassie to giggles. Sometimes his own young son back on Chulak seemed more mature than some of these Tauri adults he considered his friends.

“Cassie helped make them?” That seemed to add to Captain Carter’s delight, as Teal’c had hoped it would. The child had grown very close to the woman, the only one Captain Carter would respond to in those first days after the Tokra Jolinar’s death. Cassandra had been very willing to make something for her “Aunt Sam,” as well, an undertaking Teal’c had had reservations about from the start, until this moment.

“Indeed. She was most anxious to attempt to,” he cocked his head, remembering her exact words, “’cheer you up’.”

The smile slowly faded, and Captain Carter set the plate gently onto her dresser. “I’ll have some in a little bit,” she promised, but Teal’c had the idea now she would not. She had been touched and cheered by the gift, briefly, but it had not truly eased her pain. Nor was his second gift likely to do so, but Teal’c resignedly pulled it out from behind his back anyway, presenting it to his teammate with a slight bow.

She took the box, eyebrows climbing. It was an expression he’d come to recognize in the Tauri as disbelief. Perhaps he had misunderstood again?

“Daniel Jackson said ‘chocolate’ helps make one feel better and is an appropriate gift for a female on this planet.”

“Uh, yeah.” She shook the box so that it rattled. “It’s just…I haven’t had Cocoa Puffs since I was a kid. Did Daniel see what you got?”

Teal’c nodded once. “He assisted in my purchase and thought you would be most pleased.” Teal’c frowned slightly; he trusted Daniel Jackson more than O’Neill to tell him the truth in such things, but it would not be the first joke of this type the anthropologist had at his expense. Captain Carter had eaten the chocolates as a child? On further reflection, the drawing on the box had been rather childlike and vivid… “If I have offended—”

“Oh, no, Teal’c—I’m touched. Really. And I love Cocoa Puffs.” She seemed to be struggling with amusement, but sincere. “It’s just been a long time since I had any. Thank you.”

He bowed again.

She set the box next to the plate of cookies and then seemed at a loss, her glance going around the room as if not sure what to do next.

Teal’c clasped his hands behind his back, least certain of this last step in his part of this operation. The Tauri often did not say what they meant, hedging their words and feelings to the point that Teal’c didn’t understand how they could communicate at all. The male Tauri seemed less inclined to such evasion unless the subject of emotion or apology came up, in which case they were far worse, as Daniel Jackson and O’Neill had often shown. But Teal’c knew no other way than straightforwardness, nor approved of any other, and Daniel Jackson and O’Neill had concurred that to help Captain Carter, they had to speak. He just hoped she would take it in the spirit it was given and would not be offended at his honesty.

“Captain Carter. Cassandra hoped sincerely her gift would bring you joy. I myself share this hope, as do O’Neill and Daniel Jackson and a great many others of the SGC. I have been honored to serve with you, and have learned much from you. I regret the death of the Tokra Jolinar, but I am pleased you survived the attack of the Ashrak, even at such cost.”

Captain Carter cast her eyes down, flushing, then glanced over the room before returning her gaze to him. She was embarrassed, perhaps moved? “Teal’c…I don’t know what to say.”

His two Tauri teammates had predicted this, also. Perhaps they knew more of this subject than he’d thought. Heartened, Teal’c went on. “Then say nothing, Samantha Carter, but know this. Your loss would have been a great blow to many. Do not underestimate your value to your friends and, indeed, the fate of this world. I believe the Tokra Jolinar saw this also and made her sacrifice willingly.”

Her face was tight, unhappy, as if she were about to cry, and Teal’c felt his liver sink. He had offended, after all, when that had been his last intention.

“Captain Carter—”

“It’s okay, Teal’c.” She lifted her face to him, and her eyes shone with tears but, to his surprise, there seemed to be less despair in them than before. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

He started to bow, remembered Tauri custom. “You are welcome,” he said solemnly.

She brushed at her eyes again, glanced around the room once more, then gave Teal’c a wavering smile that warmed him. “I think maybe I’ll just leave this for later. There’s nothing I really need right now, anyway. Except for these, of course.” She picked up the plate and the box of chocolate and held them tightly to her as if they were a source of security.

Satisfied, Teal’c canted his head, then reached behind her to pick up the smaller case. They walked out of the room together, Teal’c close by her side. She did not seem to mind. Security came in many forms.

Perhaps Captain Carter had temporarily lost her path, but they would remain with her until she found it. It appeared to be the Tauri way, and one aspect of what Teal’c had come to know as friendship, such as this talking, and the sense of security that came from being reminded of the presence of one’s “family.” Teal’c was still learning about it all, but of what he’d seen he highly approved.

The next, and hopefully final, leg of the journey would be in Daniel Jackson’s company, and as Teal’c loaded Captain Carter’s bag into the automobile and watched her leave, he wished them both safe passage.

 

Daniel Jackson rang the doorbell to the small, cozy house, and rocked back on his heels to wait. One hand was stuck into his slacks pocket, the other cradled a leather-bound book that bulged in the way handwritten pages did.

The door didn’t move, nor were there any noises of someone approaching when Daniel tentatively put his ear up against it to listen. Teal’c had said Sam was home, though, despite her car still being at the base; General Hammond had sent an airmen to drive her. Unless maybe she’d taken a walk, he suddenly thought, and stepped back to glance both ways down the street. He hadn’t been there often but it seemed like a nice neighborhood and perfect for walks, unlike the part of the city he lived in. A walk would be a good—

The door rattled, then opened partway.

Sam Carter was not a hesitant person, and the tentative action surprised Daniel briefly, until he realized it really shouldn’t have. She was on her guard. He could understand that.

“Hey, Sam,” he smiled, trying for pure friendliness and not the furrowed worried look Jack had recently pointed out he’d been wearing those days. Daniel wasn’t sure he believed him, but it wouldn’t hurt to watch it.

“Daniel.” Her answer verged on cool, wary, but mostly very tired.

That described her well. She was wearing her bathrobe but her hair didn’t look mussed as if she’d been lying down and there was no sleepiness in her face, merely a bone-weariness that had engraved circles around her eyes and slumped her normally straight, military posture. The despair she’d been drowning in when he’d last seen in her in the infirmary seemed to be gone, but nothing had taken its place and it left her looking empty, alone. And Daniel knew from firsthand experience that in itself could make a person feel very old.

“I guess it’s your turn now?” she continued, the door still not opened any wider now that she knew it was a friend outside.

“My turn?” Daniel asked, genuinely confused. Had he forgotten to do something? Or was it just his turn to say something? Well, he should, shouldn’t he, rather than standing there gap-mouthed and absent-minded? “Uh, my turn for…?”

Her lips flattened in non-amusement. “Your turn to try to cheer me up. That’s what this is all about, right, the whole ‘get Sam out of her funk’ committee? The colonel and Teal’c did their best and now I guess it’s up to you, right? Well, let me tell you—”

Her anger was the first thing that made sense to him; she was actually further along in the healing process than he’d expected from what Teal’c and Jack had said. Maybe they hadn’t given themselves enough credit, but what Daniel saw now in Sam was someone who wasn’t drowning anymore, knowing her importance to them and that she was loved, and hopefully that she’d done all she could and had nothing to be ashamed of. But being ready to deal with what had happened and move on, and knowing how, were two different things. It was a limbo he recognized from experience. His had come from a childhood of loss and not belonging anywhere, and she—maybe a military upbringing? He thought he remembered her saying she’d been a military brat.

But at least he knew what page they were on now. Daniel interrupted as gently as he could.

“Sam, there’s no committee. It’s just…us, your friends, and we’re worried about you.”

She stared at him a moment, then flushed and bit her lip, looking at his shoes now. “I’m sorry, I…” Sam shook her head.

“It’s okay. I understand. But, uh,” he glanced around again, noting the one neighbor who was giving them an odd look, “can I come in?”

“What? Oh.” The door swung wider and Sam went with it, allowing room for Daniel to slip inside. She shut the door behind them, and there they stood, facing each other with all the awkwardness of a first date.

“So…what am I interrupting?” Daniel finally asked. He gave her accoutrements a vague wave. “I didn’t wake you up, did I? ‘Cause I can come back some other—” He was quite sure she hadn’t been, but it would give her a chance to kick him out if she wasn’t ready.

“No.” It was said surprisingly fast. Okay, there was an unspoken request if he’d ever heard one. “No,” she repeated more calmly, as if she’d realized that herself. “I was just…I need to do some laundry and…”

Unfinished sentences and vagueness were also very un-Samantha Carter. Daniel jumped in to put a stop to the halting litany of excuses. “It looks very…comfortable.”

“Yeah… It is.” She put her hands around herself like a solitary embrace and he wondered if she’d even realized it. Then instinct seemed to kick in. “Uh, would you like something to drink, or eat? I’m not sure what I have in the kitchen but there’s some tea or…uh, some frozen dinners.”

Apparently she lived on Swanson’s like he did. Daniel smiled briefly and almost refused the offers, then thought better of it. “Actually, some tea sounds good.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll make some.”

The automatic offer to help rose to his lips and he again squelched it. Having something to do, and for someone, might be good for her. Especially when a glance into the living room revealed a nest of blankets on the couch and no book or TV or academic journal in sight. He’d never in his life seen Sam Carter sitting and not doing anything, but it seemed that was what she’d been busy with when he’d rung the doorbell. Daniel’s eyebrows rose. Jack and Teal’c hadn’t been exaggerating. Sam was talking and moving now, nearly functional, but there wasn’t much life in her and she was still very far from the old Sam Carter.

He followed her into the kitchen, watching as she pulled out a copper kettle and listlessly filled it with water. He’d had a talk with Teal’c before he’d come out there and the Jaffa seemed to think Sam was really grieving. Even more shockingly, Jack hadn’t disagreed. That had taken Daniel aback—she’d been forcibly taken over by a Goa’uld, locked up by her friends, tortured by the Ashrak, and she was grieving for the…thing that had caused it all. Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that; no doubt she was feeling angry and hurt and ashamed, too, and the muddle just made everything harder to sort out. But Teal’c’s careful, almost kind explanation had made sense despite Daniel’s own feelings on the subject. Sam had gotten to know another being on a very intimate basis, a being it seemed was one of the good guys, who’d just been trying to survive and who had been sorry for the pain it caused. And it had no doubt communicated all that to Sam before it gave its life for her. The whole self-sacrifice thing would have been enough to stagger anyone, but with the rest added in…Well, Daniel could almost imagine grief.

But whatever he felt, whatever reaction he would have had wasn’t the point. The point was, his friend was hurting and Daniel wanted to help.

By the time Sam had collected all the tea fixings in the same pained, unhurried way, the kettle was just beginning to whistle. Daniel finally did jump up to help her, afraid she’d burn herself in her distraction, and he poured the hot water into the two mugs Sam had come up with. He kept from wrinkling his nose in distaste at the generic tea bags she draped into both—clearly she’d never spent time in England or Wales drinking true tea—but refrained from comment.

Daniel did draw the line at the bottled lemon juice she offered, instead fishing some milk out of her refrigerator that said it was two days overdue but still smelled okay. Obviously bought before the whole Jolinar fiasco, because he certainly hadn’t seen anything fresh in the kitchen except possibly for a single mysterious foil-covered plate on the counter. And, he almost smiled, there was probably a box of Cocoa Puffs in the cupboards somewhere, too, but that wasn’t much. Maybe some food would have been a better thing to bring than what he still clutched in his hands. Well, Daniel sighed to himself, that would just have to wait. Bring the soul into order and the body would follow: wasn’t there a proverb like that in one of the cultures he studied? If there wasn’t, there should have been.

He winced through her pouring some of the stale lemon juice into her own mug, then watched with climbing eyebrows as she followed it with several spoonfuls of sugar. Was that her regular taste or a coping measure? Daniel wished he could remember but he couldn’t. For all the time they spent together, there was still so much he didn’t know about his teammates.

But finally they were sitting at the table, Sam’s eyes on her mug, Daniel’s everywhere else.

Okay, the three of them had agreed they needed to talk, if Sam wasn’t inclined to. So he should say something. Daniel just hadn’t realized how hard it would be to know what to say.

“General Hammond’s been talking about this new planet, P2R-591, that he thinks we should go to on our next mission—looks like some interesting flora and soil possibilities.” Also some signs of abandoned civilization that had whet his appetite and made Jack look pained, but Daniel knew what Sam would be interested in.

“Yeah?” was the singular, disinterested response.

“He was thinking maybe on Friday, if you felt up to it…”

“Sure.” Sam took a sip of her tea, frowned faintly at it, and took a bigger swallow.

His own tea nearly scalded him when he gave it a try, and he _liked_ it hot. Daniel gave Sam a skeptical look. “We don’t have to go yet if you don’t feel—”

“I said I’m fine.”

She still wasn’t looking at him. Discomfort, stoicism, engrained teachings from his childhood of what “boys didn’t do,” and disbelief that he was any good at this clamored in his ear. It was the same clutter that had made him hold back first from Sha’re, until he realized none of that was true in her culture. Only when he stopped thinking and started doing had it all come together and had they truly become one flesh.

Maybe, came the wry epiphany, he and Sam were both just thinking too much.

He abandoned the script, the tea, and his reservations, reaching instead for Sam’s hand with all the care Sam had shown him in those disconcerting days after Nem had released him, as he’d struggled to find his own emotional and physical equanimity.

“Sam…I know I can’t understand exactly how you feel. I’ve tried to imagine myself in your place and I…I just can’t. But I know it’s lonely and sad and painful, and I do know a little of what _that’s_ like.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes desperately fixed on her tea. He’d seen that same look when she’d thought Cassie was going to die. Daniel could feel her bereftness almost as acutely now as he had then.

He stroked her hand with his thumb. “I felt so…lost after Apophis took Sha’re. I was mad, and grieving, and confused, and I just…didn’t know how to keep going.”

Her sigh of recognition was shaky.

“And every time I felt like I’d gotten my balance back, something else tripped me—having to destroy Thor’s Hammer felt like I was giving up Sha’re all over again, then going through Nem’s little mind game and watching him grieve for _his_ wife. And then I thought for a little while I’d lost _you_ guys on Apophis’ ship…”

“Daniel, I—” Sam glanced up at him, then looked away as if ashamed. “I wish I could tell you where Sha’re is. I don’t even know if _be_ knew, but I wish I could remember that for you. I’m sorry.”

Daniel hadn’t enjoyed that part much, either, but he could answer her honestly, “It’s okay.”

Sam shook her head. “No, it’s not. He used _my_ memories to hurt and betray—it just makes me so _mad_.” Her hand had balled into a fist in Daniel’s grasp.

Anger and grief were so entangled, he could never sort out his own, either. Then again, he’d never mourned someone who’d treated him like the Goa’uld had treated Sam. Okay, so that part was beyond his realm of experience, but he could still understand a lot of what she was feeling. “I’m not saying it’s easy,” he said quietly. “I’m just saying, even with the setbacks, it’ll get better.”

A drop splashed on the hardwood kitchen table, another barely making a sound as it dripped into Sam’s tea.

Daniel leaned forward, gripping her hand earnestly. For all the explanations Jack never paid attention to, the theories his colleagues had ignored, the reports Hammond filed unread, this time he had to make himself heard. “Don’t you see, Sam? Even when it got bad, I still had hope left, and I had the three of you. I don’t know how many times I ended up at Jack’s place, watching those stupid hockey games, because I didn’t know where else to go. And I was about to put my fist through the wall or something when you showed up on our—my—anniversary.”

He actually got a weak, wet laugh at that, and Daniel smiled. He still had hope.

“And it got better. It always gets better, just when it seems like it’s never going to.”

She was clenching his hand so hard now, his skin was white between her fingers.

“So…just don’t forget that, okay? Whatever you’re feeling, you’ve got a right to feel, just remember it’ll get better and you’re not alone in it.”

Sam finally looked up at him, shoulders hitching and face raw and wet and no longer empty. Daniel wasn’t sure if it was what she wanted or needed, but he was acting on pure instinct now, and he leaned forward and put an arm around her. And she immediately hugged him back, or rather clung as to a refuge in a storm as she started to sob.

His discomfiture didn’t last long. This was what they’d been hoping for, what she needed, to let go of penned-in pain and sorrow. Daniel had done that a few times himself, most often in the privacy of the bedroom he slept in alone, and one memorable time, on an awkward and uncomfortable but surprisingly compassionate Jack O’Neill’s shoulder. They’d stiffly agreed afterward never to mention it again, but it had eased something in Daniel’s heart, and Jack had been almost gentle with him for days after. And that had made all the difference for him between just coping and actually living.

That hope was turning into promise.

Daniel’s back was starting to hurt from the awkward position by the time she was finished and drew back from him, looking flushed and embarrassed and not much the in-control Captain he usually knew. He rather liked this civilian version, Daniel thought as he rose to clean up their tea things and made a fresh, more proper batch. He even found an old lemon in the refrigerator—hope, indeed. He carried on a light, one-sided conversation as he worked, tracing the history of tea and the British customs of proper tea-making, giving Sam time to pull herself together and relax. By the time he assembled everything on a tray he’d found under a dusty baking sheet, she roused herself enough to be curious.

“Where are you taking that?”

She sounded congested and still shaky and tired, but there was something alive in her eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d arrived.

Daniel added the sugar dispenser to the tray, then after a moment of staring at it blankly, two small spoons, before he picked it up and finally glanced at Sam.

“The living room.”

He’d nearly forgotten the leather-bound book and grabbed it as he went, balancing the tray on a counter for a moment. And smiled to himself as he heard Sam push herself to her feet and follow him out.

Tea was set on the coffee table in the living room, right across from the couch and its pile of blankets. Daniel watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam pushed them to one side and sat down across for him, reaching with an only faintly trembling hand for the cup he offered.

“I brought my Abydos journal with me,” Daniel said nonchalantly as he poured for them both. “I thought maybe you’d like to hear about that first mission we went on.” The only one they’d been on without her, and even though they’d been a team only a year, that seemed an age ago. They’d saved the world, died and been resurrected, and crossed a few other milestones since then. Daniel had never had a sibling and had really only known parental and romantic love until then, but he doubted now he could have felt much closer to anyone than he’d come to feel to the three diverse members of his team.

“I, uh, read a few lines when we started packing up your house, after Nem.”

It was said with the guilty tone of confessional, and Daniel refused to let himself blush. All right, so there were a few parts that were rather private, but there weren’t any real secrets in there, not from friends. Of course, he’d have to remember to tell Jack sometime there was no way those volumes were to go into any museums… But he’d picked that journal because it was also the one in which he’d worked through a great deal of his own loss and anger. Maybe it would hold some healing for another, too. “That’s okay. I bet there wasn’t anything new in there to Jack.”

“The colonel was actually pretty offended I was reading it.”

Really? He blinked. Jack never ceased to surprise him. The tea served, Daniel sank into the easy chair opposite the couch and caressed the leather binding of the book. “But you don’t mind if I—” He indicated it.

“No! No, not at all.” She was almost smiling as she made herself comfortable, curling up around her tea cup. “That sounds…good. Thank you.”

There was an emphasis on those last two words, and he gave her his most genuine smile. Now that was the Sam Carter he knew. They’d just needed to try hard enough to coax her back. Or care hard enough.

They really had some team.

As he sat back with his tea and open journal, Sam silently listening across from him, the contented certainty they’d soon be back together again settled into Daniel like a cleansing, freshly fallen snow.

And he began to read.

The End


End file.
